


you’re mine, my everything

by compendiary



Category: GOT7
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-27
Updated: 2017-12-27
Packaged: 2019-02-22 06:19:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13161051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/compendiary/pseuds/compendiary
Summary: mark and jackson love each other in different ways. mark would give everything up just to be with jackson, but it’s questionable if jackson would do the same.





	you’re mine, my everything

**Author's Note:**

> [disclaimer/spoiler](http://maenjeongsin.tumblr.com/private/168974405718/tumblr_p1l8rqvyMj1qbvvto)

Jackson stumbles into Mark’s penthouse with heavy steps, his head seemingly too heavy to be supported by his body. Mark can tell from his seat on the leather couch that Jackson is tipsy. Jackson rarely comes around unless he’s intoxicated in one way or another these days.

Jackson is slightly red in the face, and when his eyes meet Mark’s, they widen in surprise.

Mark doesn’t know why Jackson is shocked to see him in his own home, but he only raises an eyebrow in question as a form of greeting in Jackson’s direction. He doesn’t get up to help Jackson manoeuvre around the living room—this home is as much of Mark’s that it is his, regardless of how much Mark hates to admit it. This is a fact that Mark will never say out loud in fear of giving Jackson leverage over him in the future.

“Hey, babe,” Jackson blurts out, and there’s a slur to his words. _Babe._

Mark tries not to wince. “You didn’t tell me you were coming over tonight.”

A breathy chuckle escapes from Jackson as he makes his way over to Mark, his footsteps uneven and his shoulders slumped. “I missed you,” Jackson whispers when he collapses onto Mark, his breath hot against Mark’s neck as he drapes himself around Mark. “I missed you so much, baby.”

 _Baby_. Mark swallows the lump in his throat. “Yeah?” he asks, unable to control the way his heart rate increases with Jackson’s words. He should know better by now. Mark isn’t an idiot.

On the contrary, Mark’s a _genius_. At the age of 28, he’s already the CEO of a multinational company, albeit it being a family business. There has to be some substance to Mark if investors are willing to put their trust into him to head such a large corporation—Mark knows that he is anything but _stupid_. However, when it comes to Jackson, all his common sense seems to fly out the window.

Mark knows that he shouldn’t let himself fall further, but it’s been years since he first fell and it’s going to be a lifetime before he’s going to be able to escape this—Jackson is and will always be his vice.

“Mark,” Jackson says, and he’s nipping at the shell of Mark’s ear now. Jackson’s hands are wild, and he presses himself up against Mark as he feels up Mark’s chest under his sweater. It’s been awhile since Jackson’s called him Mark. “I have something to tell you.”

Mark lets himself watch Jackson motionlessly. Jackson’s a wreck—he’s dressed in an expensive Balmain suit, but his undershirt is untucked and the smell of whiskey overpowers the scent of his usual cologne. Mark doesn’t like it whenever Jackson comes to him like this, but it seems to be the only state he’s able to see Jackson in nowadays. “What is it?” Mark regrets the words as they leave his lips.

Jackson never delivers good news whenever he’s drunk.

The hands on Mark’s body stop moving, and Mark notes how Jackson schools his expression into one of seriousness as he composes himself.

Jackson pushes himself off of Mark, but he remains somewhat seated in Mark’s lap. He runs a hand through his hair, the previously neatly-gelled jet black locks getting mussed up with the movement. “Do you really want to know?” Jackson’s voice is low.

Mark doesn’t want to know. It’s not going to be something that he wants to hear. It’s coming from Jackson, though, so Mark has to know. Whatever it is—he _has_ to know. “Tell me.”

It takes Jackson a few seconds before he nods, twice, slowly. He cups Mark’s face between his hands, and his gaze is piercing as he looks right into Mark’s eyes. “She’s pregnant, Mark,” he says, and time seems to stop for Mark.

Mark doesn’t speak. He stares back at Jackson blankly.

Jackson only looks back at him, his eyes wide and pupils blown. Mark knows that he’s telling the truth.

Mark feels his world come crumbling down.

 

* * *

 

Jackson gets married six months after he turns 25, three days before Mark’s 26th birthday. It’s one of the grandest weddings Mark has ever attended.

The five-star hotel is fully booked only for the private reception, and the entire building is decorated in the colour scheme of black and gold that Jackson’s bride wanted. It doesn’t come as a surprise that Jackson’s family splurged millions on the wedding of their precious son—especially since this wedding is technically also a business merger.

Jackson was named the heir to his family’s Wang Corporation ever since his older brother eloped to Australia, never to be heard from again. Jackson has been acting as the COO of the company for close to a year now, and after his marriage to the daughter of the Li Group, he’s going to be groomed to be the CEO of the newly established Wang & Li Company, the merger of both conglomerates into an even bigger business entity.

Jackson is smiling from ear to ear at the reception, his bride’s arm tightly linked with his own as he strokes her fingers curled around his forearm with his free hand.

Her 5 carat diamond ring gleams under the light of the chandelier overhead, and Mark tries not to stare at the way her red lips part in a small giggle as Jackson leans towards her to whisper something in her ear. The fact that there’s not a flaw to be seen on her as she’s dressed in her Christian Dior ballgown rubs Mark the wrong way.

He wants to be angry; he wants to _hate_ her.

But all Mark feels is disappointment, and a lot of _envy_.

Mark takes a glimpse of Jackson standing right next to her. Jackson is in a pressed tuxedo paired with a red bowtie—the same coral red as the lipstick his bride is wearing—and he looks absolutely ecstatic to be the highlight of the evening. He shakes hands with every middle-aged couple that approaches him to give their congratulations, his hands only leaving his bride’s side for a second before returning to wrap themselves around her protectively after.

If this is all an act, Jackson could win an Oscar.

Mark hears someone clear their throat next to him at the bar, and he tears his eyes away from Jackson to take a look at who’s beside him. It’s Jinyoung, the son of the chairman of Park Industries.

Jinyoung directs a knowing look in Jackson’s direction before he makes eye contact with Mark. He’s smug. He knows a lot more than he lets on. “Beautiful couple, aren’t they?” Jinyoung comments, tilting his champagne flute towards Mark as an invite to clink their glasses.

Mark reaches out with his drink, letting his glass touch Jinyoung’s lightly before downing his wine. “Yes,” he grits from between his teeth as he swallows. “The most beautiful.”

There’s a look of pity in Jinyoung’s eyes, masked by the judgement. Mark pretends he doesn’t notice. “I always thought you would be the first to get married. Tuan Holdings used to be the biggest organisation among us, but with this merger we’ll see Jackson becoming the most powerful.”

“I have no plans for marriage.”

“Likewise,” Jinyoung remarks, taking a graceful sip from his glass. “But how will our companies expand?” he laments.

“The old fashioned way,” Mark says, and he doesn’t miss the way Jinyoung tilts his head back in boisterous laughter.

 

Jackson slips away from his bride for five minutes during the dinner. He approaches the table Mark is sharing with Jinyoung and a few other young men, holding a glass of scotch in his hands. He nods to acknowledge Jinyoung’s presence before ushering Mark to leave with him to a corner of the ballroom.

Mark is foolish enough to do as he’s told, and they end up huddled together behind thick curtains, temporarily hiding away from prying eyes.

“What is it?” Mark barks, knowing very well that he doesn’t have to use this tone with Jackson when he’s the one who willingly followed him here in the first place. He could’ve refused to speak with him; he could’ve pretended that Jackson were invisible when Jackson came over to his table, but he didn’t.

Jackson is grinning, and it’s a stupid, boyish grin that reminds Mark of how they’re so much younger than the age they’re told to act. Jackson is only 25, and now he’s the head of a family. “Oh, come on, honey,” Jackson coos as he gently runs a hand up and down Mark’s bicep. “Are you mad at me?”

“No,” Mark hisses, feeling his lips curl up into a sneer. “I don’t feel anything for you.”

“ _Sweetheart_ ,” Jackson tries once more. “Okay, riddle me this. Why do you think Ricky Wang—” Jackson hardly ever refers to his father like that, “—decided to merge _my_ company with the Li’s? How did he miss out on the Tuan’s?”

Mark glares at him. “My sister’s gay.”

Jackson laughs. “No, the other one.”

“She’s too old for you,” Mark snaps, shrugging Jackson’s hand off of his arm.

Jackson calmly gulps down the rest of his scotch, looking straight at Mark as he does so. “I meant the other child, the one standing right in front of me,” he says after he finishes his drink, a playful quirk hanging on the edge of his lips. “How did the great Ricky Wang miss out on this? A Wang-Tuan merger would end all the other companies.”

Mark tries not to let Jackson’s sweet-talking get the most of him. “Fuck off,” he bristles at that, crossing his arms. “Did you drag me all the way here just to give me bullshit?”

There’s a pause before Jackson shrugs. “I wanted to see you,” he admits sheepishly. “You know how it is with me.”

No, Mark doesn’t know.

“Anyway,” Jackson drawls, peeking through a crack in the curtains. He sighs, then he leans forward to speak right into Mark’s ear. “I’ll see you later tonight, yeah?” Jackson is turning to leave, not waiting for Mark’s reply, but Mark grabs his wrist before he opens the curtains.

“It’s your wedding night,” Mark deadpans, scanning Jackson’s facial expression for a sign suggesting that this is a joke.

There’s nothing but a pair of stubborn eyes that look back at him. “I’ll make it work,” Jackson replies, waving the matter away as his features soften. “Trust me, babe.”

And with that, Jackson leaves.

 

Jackson slips into Mark’s hotel room past midnight after he’s wrapped up the dinner and presumably put his wife to sleep.

Mark doesn’t ask what excuse he used to leave his _wife_ alone on their _wedding night_. Knowing Jackson, however, he’s not surprised that whatever he said worked.

Mark has been in the suite since 8pm. He couldn’t stomach anymore of the nauseating celebration of this cursed matrimony. Nothing about any of this is celebratory to him—he can barely breathe just thinking about how Jackson’s going to be living with _her_ in the near future; how every little detail of Jackson’s life is going to be extended to _her_.

Jackson enters with his own keycard because Mark didn’t give him one. “I got it from the receptionist,” Jackson explains himself without Mark having to ask. “I’m sure we both know how far a little bit of money can take us.”

Mark snorts. He’s tucked under the thick duvet of the king-sized bed, a tall glass of Merlot within his reach on the end table as he watches a cowboy movie on the television.

Jackson crawls into bed next to him, his teeth finding their way to Mark’s earlobe as he nibbles on it with his incisors, still on all fours. “How’s my baby tonight?” Jackson asks, angling Mark’s face towards him by the chin with one hand. “Did you miss me as much as I missed you?”

“Don’t,” Mark warns, hoping his voice is as firm as he wants it to sound. “Don’t touch me.”

Jackson lets go. He sighs exaggeratedly as he kicks off his dress shoes. He takes his bowtie off, too, and throws it across the room, followed by his blazer. “ _Darling_ ,” Jackson whines, nuzzling his face into the cotton of Mark’s pyjama-clad chest. “But I missed you so, so much.”

Mark remains silent. He’s not going to let Jackson win. Not today.

“How could you not miss me at all?” Jackson complains, his fingers clumsily creeping up to unbutton Mark’s pyjama top. He peppers kisses along the smooth expanse of skin on Mark’s neck, his lips moving upwards and nipping at the angle of Mark’s jaw as he undoes the buttons. “You’re not mad at me, are you?”

Mark swallows. “Jackson, I told you not to touch me,” he says, weakly.

He can feel Jackson’s smirk against the underside of his jaw. Jackson sucks at the skin there, and Mark just knows that it’s going to leave an ugly red mark in the morning. “You don’t mean that,” Jackson states after he’s done with his handiwork, and Mark feels the telltale throbbing of a bruise forming on his skin.

 _You don’t mean that—_ it rings in Mark’s ears as he pretends it’s untrue.

 

* * *

 

When Mark wakes up in the morning, he’s curled up to Jackson’s side in bed, their bare skin touching underneath the covers although Jackson usually kicks them off because of his heat intolerance. He wakes Jackson up with light nudges to his side and he blows air into Jackson’s ear, knowing that’s where he’s particularly sensitive.

Jackson cracks an eye open, unimpressed, as he shakes his head slightly so Mark can’t blow directly into his ear anymore. “What is it?” Jackson asks, yawning as he stretches both his arms, releasing Mark from the embrace he previously enveloped him in.

“It’s morning,” Mark says, simply. “You didn’t tell me if you told her you were out of the country.”

Jackson hums in understanding, rubbing at his eyes. “It doesn’t matter, she’s been too busy fussing over the baby to give a fuck over where I am.”

Mark knows that’s a lie. He’s seen the notifications on Jackson’s phone—she asks where he is at all times, it just depends on whether Jackson wants to placate her with a reply. Most of the time, Jackson uses the business as a front for spending nights over at Mark’s place. Sometimes she buys it, sometimes she questions it.

A man can only have so many business trips in a week. Jackson has been trying to spend every other night with Mark ever since he learnt of his wife’s pregnancy.

It’s understandable. Jackson is only 27—he’s considered young to be a father by today’s standards. It doesn’t help that his associates his age haven’t gotten married yet, much more have children of their own. Mark, for one, is 28-years-old and one of the most eligible singles in high society—at least, the public still thinks that he’s single.

Is he really?

“I still can’t fucking believe that she’s pregnant,” Jackson curses, suddenly wide awake as he turns to his side to look at Mark. “Can you fucking believe it? I’ve been using condoms every time we do it, and she told me that she was on the pill.”

“Maybe she’s lying.”

Jackson nods. “I can’t fucking believe it. I told her that it’s not time for me to be a dad yet. Look at me!” Jackson practically yells out of frustration, gesturing between himself and Mark. “I don’t fucking love her, what am I going to tell my kid when he grows up and asks why I’m never home? ‘Oh, I don’t know, maybe I don’t fucking love your mum, that’s why.’”

The unreasonable part of Mark’s personality perks up at the mention of _love_. Jackson has never explicitly said “I love you” to him, but this is something. If Jackson doesn’t love her and keeps coming back to him, there’s bound to be something here.

“The fact that she’s so excited about it makes me think that my parents set her up for it. God knows that they’ve been nagging me to give them grandchildren, but this is a fucking conspiracy.”

Mark has heard this before. Jackson’s been moaning about how he thinks the universe is against him ever since the news. Mark has never felt the need to console him because deep down he’s _glad_ that this is happening to Jackson.

Jackson deserves a bit of a lesson for all he’s put Mark through. The wicked side of Mark revels in how unhappy Jackson is with his current arrangement—but the part of Mark that loves Jackson hurts.

“Wasn’t this why you married her in the first place?” Mark finally pipes up, resting a hand on Jackson’s chest to calm him down. “You told me you wanted to get married because you wanted to start a family.”

Jackson purses his lips. “I suppose,” he mutters, glancing down at Mark’s fingers splayed over his pectoral.

Mark wonders if him verbalising the excuse Jackson gave him when he first told Mark that he was engaged is more for Jackson or for himself, because if Jackson really did get married to start a family, it would make Mark feel a little bit better. Mark can’t bear children for him the way _she_ can.

So if starting a family is really why Jackson chose her, Mark feels a little less terrible about it.

 

* * *

 

“I’m getting married.”

Jackson says this like a matter of fact—a casual remark that isn’t going to chip at Mark’s resolve piece by piece every time he thinks about it. _I’m getting married. But not to you._ It’s what’s left unsaid that bothers Mark all the more.

Mark doesn’t know what he should say in return. Jackson’s head is resting on his chest as they cuddle on the couch, distractedly onlooking a boring black and white film playing on the television.

What can he say?

It’s not that Mark hasn’t expected this. Ever since Jackson started going out with the daughter of the Li Group, Mark knew that marriage was in the books. They were introduced by their families, and knowing how the Asian tradition for large businesses go, it usually ends in marriage before they merge their businesses.

Jackson’s girlfriend—no, _fiancée_ —is young, beautiful, and rich. She’s everything the other women in the world strive to be. Her online presence is strong—she has a huge following on Instagram where she posts pictures of herself on lavish getaways and humble missionary trips. She’s the perfect rich girl for Jackson Wang—the heir of a large conglomerate, known to be a flirtatious playboy before he found the right woman for himself.

The media had a field day when Jackson first took her out in public. _Heir to Wang Corporation Charmed by Li Group Beauty_ , the headlines read. Photos of them holding hands in a theme park on a chilly autumn day decorated the tabloids. Jackson was never known for _intimacy_ , his promiscuity was spread by word of mouth and this was the first time that he showed any interest in taking a relationship a step further.

Mark had his assistant ban all newspapers and magazines sent to the Tuan Holdings headquarters that day. He even had a firewall set up so that sketchy tabloid websites wouldn’t be able to be accessed in his office. He wasn’t going to face any of it.

It was easy to ignore that Jackson was out seeing someone else with all the defences he built up around himself. It’s been a year since Jackson started going out with her, but Mark didn’t expect to hear this _today_.

“You are?” Mark lets the words escape his mouth. They roll off his tongue thickly. The connotation tastes bitter to him.

Jackson shifts in Mark’s arms, snuggling up closer towards him. “Yeah, this September,” Jackson replies. It’s so easy for him.

Jackson doesn’t even know how deep his words are cutting into Mark’s skin.

“I’ll still spend your birthday with you, if that’s what you’re sulky about.”

Mark lowers his head to meet Jackson’s eyes. Jackson is looking up at him with interest. “Sulky?” Mark asks, relaxing his eyebrows that he didn’t know he had knitted together in a frown.

Jackson laughs. He smooths out Mark’s eyebrows with his thumbs, and Mark can only stare in awe at how Jackson’s eyes curl up into crescent moons as he smiles. “You’re not slick,” Jackson comments, sitting up as he traces under Mark’s eye with an index finger. “Jealousy is unbecoming of you.”

Mark frowns once more. Jealousy? How could he not be jealous?

Mark has been in love with Jackson for _years_. It’s an understatement to say that Jackson is his everything—Jackson is everything to Mark and _more_. The power Jackson has over Mark is of a ridiculous amount. Mark would give up anything within a heartbeat just to have Jackson to himself, as a whole.

He knows why Jackson is doing the things he does—Jackson has big dreams, an even bigger ambition, and the biggest goals. Jackson wants to be the unrivalled head of his family’s corporation, doing good and living even better.

It’s never been a secret to Mark that every decision Jackson makes is of second importance to his rank. That’s including anything pertaining to Mark.

They love each other in different ways—Mark is hushed whispers of “I love you” under the moonlight, whereas Jackson avoids saying the three words. It makes Mark wonder if _love_ is really what Jackson feels for him. Jackson’s never said anything about love.

“Hey,” Jackson interrupts Mark’s trail of thought. “Babe, you know I’m doing this for us, right?”

 _Us_ , Jackson speaks like this is what Mark wants. Like Mark has a choice in all of this. Mark combs his fingers through Jackson’s hair. The strands are loose and fluffy because Jackson freshly washed his hair this morning. His head is free of hair product, unlike whenever he goes for a business meeting and styles his hair up for formality.

“I just need to make my family happy so they’ll leave us alone,” Jackson continues. He shuts his eyes when Mark strokes his cheek with a thumb. “You’re the only one I want.”

It’s these statements said in passing that make Mark think that Jackson does love him. It’s times like this when Mark tells himself that this is all worth it—having a bit of Jackson to himself is better than not having him at all.

But at what cost?

Jackson is going to get married. He’s going to be responsible for another person, and he’s going to start a family with someone else—Mark is coming in between that. He could pretend before that Jackson only had him; that Jackson wasn’t off spending every other day laying next to someone who isn’t Mark; that Jackson doesn’t call her _honey_ and _sweetheart_ and every other nauseating term of endearment he uses on Mark to keep him coming back.

“I call her by her name,” Jackson once said after Mark snapped a curt “don’t call me what you call her” to him.

Does he really?

Mark doesn’t know her. He doesn’t know what Jackson does with her. He distanced himself far enough to never have to face her.

Jackson is insistent to lessen the imaginary burden on Mark’s shoulders, though, oblivious to the fact that he’s the root cause of all of Mark’s problems. “I’m only with her to please the Wang clan, you know that,” Jackson assures him, his fingers coming to hold Mark at the sides of his neck. “I’m with her for _them_ , but I’m with you for _me_.”

Mark nods, although he doesn’t quite understand.

“You’re the only bit of me I let myself be selfish for,” Jackson whispers. His hushed confession echoes in the back of Mark’s mind.

 _Selfish_. “That’s not true.”

Jackson scowls. “Believe me. You’re the last part of me that I keep for myself and myself only.”

That wasn’t what Mark meant, but Jackson doesn’t know. Mark wants to say it out loud—Jackson is selfish. From the very first day when they started doing whatever it is they do—they’re short of being a couple, but too much not to call lovers—Jackson has been nothing but selfish. Mark has always been at the end of his list of priorities.

Jackson doesn’t get it at all. He smacks his lips together, his brain probably conjuring up a sentence that will undoubtedly haunt Mark for the rest of his days. “Baby,” Jackson starts, his gaze intense as he holds eye contact with Mark. “You know that I’d die without you, right?”

Against all his life principles, Mark wants to believe him, so he nods.

Jackson is pleased. He plants a long kiss onto Mark’s lips, the contact gentle and sweet, and when he lets go, he’s smiling. “You’re my everything. And more.”

 _No, you’re my everything and more_ , Mark wants to say, but doesn’t.

 

* * *

 

Mark tries not to wallow too much over the question of why Jackson never chose him. Sometimes, he’s successful. Other times, he starts thinking and he just can’t stop.

Today is one of those days.

As Jackson lounges on Mark’s bed, fumbling with his phone, Mark lets his mind wander.

Jackson was never secretive with his sexuality. It’s an open secret in the Wang household that Jackson is bisexual—he brought his first boyfriend home when he was 16, his parents were taken aback at first, but they never reprimanded him about it. They told him to keep it quiet, but they didn’t shun their child.

It surprised Mark as an onlooker because Jackson’s family came off as one that was extremely traditional—they’re Chinese people based in _China_ , where homosexuality is still a touchy topic. But Jackson’s parents were accommodating and they never questioned their youngest son, so Mark was relieved on behalf of his best friend, whom he thought was incredibly brave for opening up to his parents at such a young age.

Mark never discussed this topic with his parents, so the fact that Mark is exclusively attracted to men is still an open secret.

Nobody knows about Mark’s relationship with Jackson. They’ve been keeping it under wraps for years, and unless someone knows and hasn’t said anything about it, Mark is sure that whatever happens between them is known to themselves only.

Mark has had spiteful thoughts over why Jackson finds the need to hide him like he’s some dirty secret, but then he realises that it’s because he _is_.

Jackson is a married man, successful within his field of work, and Mark is a _burden_ to him.

Mark isn’t doing terribly himself—as the CEO of Tuan Holdings now that his father has retired, Mark is at the top of his game. But he’d risk it all if Jackson told him to. He’d give it all up for Jackson—his position, his money, all the luxury in the world.

He’d live as a pauper if it meant that he could have Jackson by his side officially, not sneakily like how he does now.

They’ve never been on a proper date. He’s taken Jackson out before, but they had to keep their distance over the candlelit dinners. Jackson would make sure to bring a file of papers, and Jackson’s phone would be resting face-up on the tabletop, just so everyone would assume that their dinner was an informal business meeting more than a romantic outing.

After Mark first picked up on that, he’s never taken Jackson out since.

Now they spend their time in private—Mark’s penthouse in Los Angeles, hotel rooms on spontaneous getaways, and the ever rare trip down to Jackson’s childhood mansion in Hong Kong. It’s one of the perks running multinational companies, they write off their jet-setting as business trips or routine checkups on branches in different countries.

They spend most of their time based in Los Angeles, though, because Jackson decided to set up the headquarters of Wang & Li in America after it was established.

“So that I can see you every day,” Jackson had said after he showed Mark the building he bought for his new office.

It’s conflicting. Mark spends enough time with Jackson to be able to call him _his,_ but at the same time Jackson is someone else’s. This will be extended to become two other people in a few more months after Jackson’s wife delivers.

Mark can’t help but feel like he’s ruining something that could be _real_ for Jackson.

Whatever they share is barely enough for Mark, but Jackson could have so much more if he didn’t have Mark. Jackson could have the perfect little family—a beautiful, supportive wife, and a healthy, handsome baby. With Mark in the picture Jackson’s wife is sceptical of his every move but won’t say so outright, and Jackson has to creep around to avoid getting caught in his lies.

Mark reminds himself that _Jackson_ made this choice when all of it could’ve been simple from the beginning. Wang Corporation has a monopoly, more or less, on a few industries that they dabble in, while Tuan Holdings is unparalleled in the stock market. Their companies are enormous—big enough to withstand whatever scandal the sons of their chairmen could’ve gotten caught up in.

Surely a small dent would’ve been made to the reputation of the corporations if the heirs to both companies came out as gay, but it wouldn’t have been irreparable damage. It was salvageable back when they were just pawns in the larger scheme of things, but now that they’re the big players themselves, they definitely have more to lose.

It all boils down to the fact that Jackson doesn’t love Mark enough. Jackson never loved him enough.

Jackson is afraid, Jackson is selfish, and Jackson doesn’t care for him enough to take a leap of faith, period.

Mark wishes this wasn’t the truth.

“Dear,” Jackson calls from the bed, his knees bent so his feet point up to the ceiling as he’s resting on the bed tummy-down.

Mark looks up from the book he was pretending to read questioningly.

“My mum asks if you’re visiting for Chinese New Year,” Jackson says, raising an eyebrow. “I’m booking your ticket right now. Business or first class?”

“Chinese New Year is three months away,” Mark states flatly. “First.”

“High maintenance,” Jackson quips, tapping with swift motions into the wide screen of his phone. “She’s going to be so happy that you’re going over. She loves you.”

Mark holds back a sigh. _I know_ , he wants to say. _She loves me as much as she loves you_.

It’s another addition to the never-ending list that proves the only thing standing between Mark and Jackson and their happy ending is and was Jackson himself.

But Mark loves Jackson enough to pretend that it’s okay.

 

* * *

 

The first time Mark acknowledges his feelings for Jackson, it’s an uneventful realisation. He’s been best friends with Jackson for years, and he’s loved him for most of that time. He doesn’t know when loving Jackson became being _in love_ with Jackson, but it doesn’t matter—Jackson is his best friend, it’s not the worst thing.

Jackson is talking animatedly about a hobby he recently picked up, something about collecting caps and how he’s been splurging most of his allowance on his newfound interest. Mark doesn’t even want to think about how much Jackson has spent especially when he considers how much money Jackson gets from his parents every month.

They’re huddled up in Mark’s apartment. The weather in London is chilly and glum, and they decided to sit out on their lectures for the day because “We’re in our final year, and all I do in class is online shop anyway,” Jackson had said.

“Are you secretly judging me?” Jackson asks Mark suddenly, shoving him by the knee forcefully. “Why aren’t you saying anything?”

Mark, always calm and collected, weighs his options. He’s never been able to hide anything from Jackson for long. Jackson is always able to pick up on cues that he’s bothered by something. Maybe it’ll be easier on him to just get this confession out of the way once and for all—he doesn’t need Jackson to reciprocate his feelings, he’s only going to be stating a matter of fact.

Jackson is still looking up at him in interest, awaiting his response.

“I think I love you,” Mark admits, rubbing the palms of his hands on his jeans.

Jackson doesn’t look surprised. “That’s stupid,” he says, rolling his eyes. “I feel the same way. What’s new?”

Mark shakes his head, lowering his head to look at Jackson through his fringe.

“Oh,” Jackson exclaims, his jaw falling slightly. He seems to have gotten what Mark wants to convey, saving Mark the trouble of having to verbalise his feelings once more.

Mark attempts to get rid of the lump lodged in his throat by gulping down the opened can of an overly-sweet energy drink Jackson put on the coffee table. He avoids looking at Jackson in his peripheral vision, focusing his line of sight straight in front of him to look out the large glass windows of his living room.

Jackson doesn’t say anything for a couple more minutes, and they sit in silence.

“It’s not,” Mark begins, finding it difficult to continue once he’s started speaking. “It’s not serious or anything. I don’t want you to feel burdened by this.” He turns to look at Jackson slowly, and Jackson’s staring down into his lap where he hands are resting.

Jackson is fidgeting with his fingers, but he doesn’t say a word.

“I’m sorry,” Mark whispers, reaching out to cup Jackson’s hands in his, but he hesitates before he can hold him, leaving his hand to hover in the air. “I know you just broke up with—”

Jackson interrupts him mid-sentence with a hug. “You’re the most important person to me,” Jackson says, and it makes Mark nervous. Jackson lets go and leans back after awhile, still holding Mark by the shoulders. “I want this. Whatever this is.”

“This?”

Jackson nods. “You and me. _This_.”

There’s a radiant smile on Jackson’s face, and Mark has to take a deep breath to find his footing. “Really?” he asks, not quite believing his ears. He didn’t expect this from Jackson.

They’ve never discussed being more than friends. They spend a lot of time together, but most of what they do is platonic. Mark wonders if Jackson is just saying this to make him feel better—Jackson has never been one to make him feel unwanted.

“If you’re only saying this because I said something, it really doesn’t matter if you don’t feel the same way,” Mark quickly says. “I’m not trying to pressure you into anything. I love you all the same.”

Jackson shakes his head. “Do you think I’m the type to only say something like this just because I think it’s what you want to hear?” he argues, his hands coming up to cup the sides of Mark’s face. “Wait, don’t answer that.”

Mark doesn’t know what else to say. “Jackson… Will your parents be—”

Jackson hushes him once more, this time with a kiss. Jackson’s lips are so much softer than what Mark thought they would feel like. When they part, Jackson’s gaze is confident and sure. “Nobody has to know. It’s just me and you.”

Mark blinks, nodding. “Me and you,” he repeats, and the words seem foreign but somehow familiar to his ears.

Jackson uses the back of his fingers to stroke Mark’s cheek, and Mark leans into the touch without a second thought. “Me and you. Mark and Jackson. Until the end of time.”

 _Until the end of time_. An eternity with Jackson doesn’t sound like it’d be enough for Mark.

 

* * *

 

It becomes more and more apparent to Mark that things are going to change as Jackson’s wife’s expected delivery date draws closer. She’s four months into the pregnancy now, and they’ve confirmed that Jackson is going to have a son—good news for the Wang family who were hoping Jackson would produce a male heir to carry on the family lineage.

Jackson still avoids talking about it unless Mark brings it up first. He’s able to put it all aside whenever he’s with Mark but Mark _can’t_.

Mark is consumed by the constant reminder at the back of his head that he’s coming between a family.

He loves Jackson so much—enough that it could truly end him if he let it. But is love enough for him to justify being this selfish?

“She wants to me to move to Hong Kong with her,” Jackson states one day as he’s washing the dishes in Mark’s kitchen sink. He has a pair of pink gloves on, and his grip on the sponge is lax as he lazily scrubs at a ceramic plate. “I can’t just relocate like life’s a game. So I told her no. I have the company here, everything’s barely set in stone—and, well, I have you.”

Mark dries the rinsed plate Jackson passes him slowly with a towel. He hums in response. “Me,” Mark tastes the word on his tongue.

“Yeah, you.”

Mark sneaks a glance Jackson’s way, and he sees Jackson searching his face for a reaction. “You can just say no like that?”

Jackson shrugs. “She’s a smart woman, she understands how the business works,” Jackson explains, waving the matter away physically with the hand he has the sponge in. Soap suds splatter on the countertop. “I’m not going to up and leave just because she says so. Anyway, LA is my home now. I belong here.”

“But you love Hong Kong.”

“I do.”

Mark raises an eyebrow, setting the plates aside as Jackson washes his hands after finishing with the dishes. “You call Hong Kong home, how’s LA your home?”

Jackson snorts, flicking the excess wetness from his hands into the sink before placing both his hands on Mark’s chest—a sneaky attempt at drying them on Mark’s shirt. “Because _you’re_ here, stupid. Do you really need me to spell it out for you?”

It’s ridiculous that Mark’s heart still skips a beat whenever Jackson says things like this.

“Wherever you are is where home is for me,” Jackson adds.

Mark peels Jackson’s hands off the front of his shirt. “That’s enough, Jackson,” Mark says, his tone neutral.

Jackson smirks. “You’re stuck with me. Until your dying day.”

Those words are ambitious, and Mark would be buzzing with excitement over them if the circumstances were different. But right now, with where they are at this point in life, Mark can only think about how these are all empty promises. Jackson can’t give him forever and he knows it.

“Babe, why the long face?” Jackson asks, holding Mark by the sides of his face as he closes the distance between them, rubbing his nose against Mark’s. “You afraid of a little commitment?”

It’s ironic that the question is what Mark’s been meaning to ask him all this time.

 

That night, when Mark pulls Jackson to his chest, spent, he tries to contain his thoughts. He doesn’t want his mind to wander anymore—it brings him unnecessary anguish but it’s just in his nature to _think_.

Jackson seems content just lying there, his expression one free of worries and thought. Jackson hooks a bare leg over Mark’s, flopping an arm over to hold Mark by the shoulder so he’s sleeping on Mark as if Mark’s his personal bolster.

Mark repositions himself slightly, holding Jackson’s head close to his chest so Jackson can’t see his face. It’s difficult to put everything aside. When the nights are quiet, like this one, that’s when Mark can’t hide from who he really is—he’s someone who thinks too much, cares too much, but can’t find the right words to express himself with.

Jackson’s breathing is shallow and slow, and Mark knows from habit that it’s a sign of him drifting off to sleep.

“Jackson,” Mark can’t help but call, softly to the ceiling.

Jackson hums in response. “Hmm?”

“Are you really only with her for your family?” Mark utters out loud. He’s wanted to ask this question for years now—it’s always been locked up in a safe that he refused to open, all his doubt and uncertainty contained in this one query.

“What do you mean?” Jackson is sleepy already.

“She’s pregnant.”

Jackson groans in response. “Don’t remind me.”

Mark doesn’t want to continue, but he knows that he has to. He’s opened up this can of worms—he has to empty it. “You’re going to be a dad,” he mumbles wistfully.

Jackson smacks his lips together lightly, making a noise of annoyance to let Mark know that he doesn’t like where the conversation is going. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” he mutters, sniffling after. “Go to sleep.”

Mark lets it go.

It hasn’t been easy for him, but it’s unfair for him to assume that Jackson hasn’t been suffering, too. It’s something that he’s come to accept while he considers their situation.

It’s in the dark of the night when Mark can clear his mind and sort out his own thoughts. He strokes Jackson’s hair gingerly, feeling every strand as it slips between his fingers. He can feel Jackson’s body going slack on his—Jackson’s always been quick to fall asleep.

“I love you,” Mark whispers to him, and he doesn’t expect to hear anything back. Jackson can’t hear him in his sleep, but even if Jackson did hear him, Jackson’s never said it back anyway.

Mark sighs softly, moving to stroke the sides of Jackson’s face instead, feeling the skin on the angle of his jaw. He feels Jackson’s nose scrunch up from the sudden touch, but he only makes his movements even more gentle.

It’s awhile before Mark hears anything back.

“I love you.”

It’s unmistakable. It couldn’t have been an echo.

Jackson’s hand on his shoulder tightens as Jackson presses a kiss to his torso delicately, at the very point where Mark can feel his heart threatening to beat out of his chest.

Mark stops touching Jackson’s face, opting instead to wrap both his arms around Jackson’s form that’s lying on him. He buries his nose in Jackson’s hair, inhaling the scent of it.

Jackson smells like a mixture of lavender and vanilla—the light fragrance of Mark’s favourite laundry detergent mixed with his current shampoo. But underlying it all is a scent that’s undeniably Jackson’s own.

Mark breathes it in, nice and slowly, trying to memorise what he might forget in the future.

**Author's Note:**

> and that’s a wrap for my first markson angst fic. the title comes from kard’s [you in me](https://colorcodedlyrics.com/2017/11/kard-you-in-me). i know this could be considered niche since it’s more of a mark-centric fic than anything, but if you finished it anyway let me know your thoughts!
> 
> i love how i only took 2 days (? 3?) to write this. inspiration is a funny thing! also, an advanced happy new year to all!
> 
> [twitter](http://twitter.com/jiaerwang) || [tumblr](http://maenjeongsin.tumblr.com)


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